Kumiko's patience and determination had their limits, and when Akane entered one of the rooms in a pink film theater at around eight in the evening, she couldn't stand to keep up the chase any longer.

With a rumbling stomach and sore feet that she was sure were blistered from walking in leather flats all day, Kumiko turned back through the reception area and passed by a wall-mounted display case filled with erotic film posters. In the center was one for a movie titled Double Rope Torture. It depicted a young woman whose kimono had been pulled down past one shoulder to expose her cleavage, while the chained silhouette of another woman formed the background.

Kumiko glanced down at her chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable despite knowing what she was capable of. She wondered how many men saw the female body as little more than a commodity to be exhibited or exploited and if she was willing to sacrifice all to be free from such objectification.

She guessed that she would soon find out, for it would undoubtedly be eye-opening to walk in a man's shoes and venture into places that were inaccessible to her as a woman.

As if to further drive home the point, a pair of men sauntered in through the glass-paned entrance. They seemed to be heading straight towards her, so she skirted around them in a hurry. To her relief, neither of them made any attempt to harass her or prevent her from leaving. She'd had a few such experiences in the past, with the last time being when she had gone dancing in a disco and caught some unwanted attention.

Kumiko inhaled, pushing the memory aside while departing the theater to discover that light rain had begun to fall. In the absence of shelter, cold droplets hit her face and clothes, darkening her beige trench coat. It was a shame that she had forgotten to bring an umbrella, and the idea of catching a taxi to Shinjuku station became tempting.

She continued along the street with one arm raised over her head to protect her hair, though it didn't prove to be very effective. The rain grew heavier, and by the time she spied an illuminated red 'vacant' sign in the distance, her hair was thoroughly soaked.

The driver of the yellow vehicle parked by the sidewalk after she flagged them down, at which point the left rear door opened automatically, allowing her to clamber in while she apologized for her wetness.

"It's no problem, miss," the middle-aged man with prematurely graying hair reassured, taking a glance at his rear-view mirror. "Where to?"

"Shinjuku station, please."

"Right away."

He switched gears and carefully steered away from the curb, checking for oncoming traffic as he did so. Kumiko turned towards the window to watch the condensation rolling slowly down and leaving foggy trails that obscured the bright lights and buildings outside, making them appear to her like a dazzling oil painting.

She shut her eyes for a moment, envisioning a seemingly distant future in which she and Ichiro could go out to admire the city at night and enjoy each other's company without fear of hindrance or interruption, as had been the case until now.

If her memory was correct, she had brought Ichiro back to life on Sunday. Today was Friday, which meant that no more than five days had passed. Yet, those five days had proven to be life-changing in a way that the preceding thirty years hadn't, and with fatigue beginning to take over, she wanted nothing more than to have a nice long sleep.

Unfortunately, she still had a train to catch and would need to pay the driver when this trip was over, so she used her last reserve of willpower to keep herself awake for as long as necessary.

Studying men's fashion and the male form can wait until tomorrow. There's too little time left today...

******

Kumiko's legs felt rather heavy when she finally made it up the stairs to the door of her apartment. She reached into her handbag to retrieve the key and made two clumsy attempts to insert it in the hole before succeeding. Then, with a turn of her hand, she unlocked the door before pulling the key out and kicking her shoes off into the narrow entryway.

She stumbled inside, halfheartedly making sure to lock the door again and step into her hemp slippers. Afterward, she was off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a quick shower before bed.

It wasn't until she collapsed upon her futon and prepared to give in to slumber that an alarming realization hit her - she had forgotten to call Tsutomu and inform him of the rest of her plan.

Must. Get up.

Kumiko sat back up with renewed energy, which she didn't think was possible until a dull ache in her posterior led to the discovery that one of her tails had reemerged as if to remind her of what she really was.

What? What is happening? She thought while running her hand along its length and reacting with surprise at how soft the fur was. Now's not the time to be...

An unexpected telephone ring only fueled her panic. She leaped out of bed but struggled to keep her tail balanced and stumbled as a result. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she grabbed the troublesome appendage and held the white tip to her belly to avoid another similar accident, then charged into the kitchen to answer the phone.

"Hello?!" she shouted into the receiver, barely holding back her desire to curse at the caller. "Who is this?!"

"It's me, Futoshi. Why are you so angry?"

Kumiko glanced down at her tail, immediately overcome by guilt. "I'm sorry." She quietened her voice to a murmur as she sought to explain her loss of temper. "It's just that I'm in a bind right now. How's Tsutomu? Is he still with you?"

"He's fine," Futoshi replied with a shaky voice that suggested it wasn't really the case. "But, there's just one thing..."

"What is it?" Kumiko pleaded, feeling her stomach turn with dread. She heard him sigh heavily on the other end.

"I've tried calling four times already, but maybe I shouldn't be bothering you right now. You're in a bind, aren't you?"

"I was just overreacting," Kumiko lied through gritted teeth. "Everything should be fine again by tomorrow morning."

"I see." Futoshi didn't sound entirely convinced. "Well, it's Yukari. She tracked me down this afternoon."

"What do you mean? I thought-"

"You didn't. Now she won't leave until I let her have Ichiro."

Kumiko's anxiety only grew at the mention of her husband's name. "You mean Tsutomu, right? What does she want with him?"

"Right, Tsutomu. She won't tell me the reason, but my guess is that he's caught her eye, being the only handsome guy in this part of Tokyo."

"Futoshi, tell me your guess is wrong."

"Hey, I did my best," he insisted, much to her ever-waning patience. "Is there a chance you can come over now? I don't want to talk too long..."

Another glance down at her disobedient tail told Kumiko the answer. She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, but as I said earlier, I'm in a bit of a bind. How much longer can you hold out?"

"I don't know, but I'll try..."

"Well, best of luck..."

"You too."

"Goodbye, Futoshi. Thanks for all your help."

"Goodbye, Kumiko..."

Their conversation ended with a click, and feeling powerless, Kumiko retired to bed, where she curled up with bushy tail splayed on the floor, hoping that her landlord would prove tenacious enough to hold out until the morning.

She closed her eyes, knowing it was the best she could do for now.

******

The sound of rain pattering against the window did little to calm Tsutomu as he warmed his legs beneath the kotatsu, all the while rubbing his hands together restlessly and mulling over the possible longevity of his existence.

The ability to stay youthful forever and heal from any wound sounded well and good, but he wasn't sure if it would be worth the prospect of outliving everyone dear to him, including his own son Tetsuya.

He could only assume that such a thing had already happened to Yukari and began to wonder how long it had taken her to overcome the pain. Judging by the way she'd insulted her father's intelligence, it seemed probable that she hadn't had the best relationship with this mysterious man.

Of course, he wouldn't know unless she chose to open up about it, so he resigned himself to continuing to sit alone aimlessly until footsteps from out in the hallway prompted him to turn his head. The door swung open, bringing more light into the room, and Tsutomu blinked in response. "Yukari?"

"Yeah, it's me," she snarked while striding over to seat herself adjacent to him. He shifted a few centimeters to the right, feeling uncomfortable with the proximity.

"What do you want this time?"

"For you to trust me."

"Haven't you already tried?" he teased her with a shrug.

"Yes, but I figured I'd try a different approach this time. I'll say something true about myself, and then you'll do the same. Sound good?"

Tsutomu immediately saw the flaw in such a concept and couldn't help but comment on it. "I'll say, but how would you know if I was lying?"

Yukari gave him an icy glare. "My intuition. I have an eye for these things."

"Whatever you say. Go ahead."

"All right." She glanced at the wall, then focused on him. "I... I had a brother once. His name was Yūtarō."

"He's gone, isn't he?" Tsutomu asked with hesitation upon noticing that she'd used past tense.

Yukari looked wistful for a moment, then, with renewed resolve, nodded before gesturing at him. "Your turn now."

Tsutomu swallowed, feeling anxious now that he'd been put on the spot. He opted to share something trivial, despite Yukari's apparent intent to come clean about her past. "Okay. I was a fan of The Tigers when I was in university. We all wished to be as cool as Kenji Sawada."

"Can't argue with that last part," Yukari agreed. "But I think you're making this up. Being a useful member of society was something I gave up on long ago. Wouldn't it be the same for you?"

"Once upon a time, yes," Tsutomu replied, remembering the depression he'd sunken into months prior. "But now I have hope again."

"Oh, really? Might I ask how?" Yukari leaned forward, her eyes widening in uncharacteristic excitement.

"I've met some special people. If I play my cards right, they might just accept me as a friend."

Yukari turned away from him in disbelief. "You're kidding. Are you saying you've found others besides me?"

Tsutomu realized that she had interpreted his answer differently from what he had intended and sought to clear up the misunderstanding. "What? No..."

"Then what do you mean? Who else could..." Her voice trailed off. "...oh. You're talking about them, aren't you?"

"You could say that."

"Well, do you know what I think?" She lowered her voice to a murmur. "That's just what they want you to believe. So they can keep using you."

Paranoia and doubt began to creep through Tsutomu's mind, and he tried to resist by contesting Yukari's claim. "That's not true. I get something from them too."

"Oh yeah, what?" she asked as her lips curled into a seemingly malicious smirk.

"Protection."

"Protection?" Yukari attempted to hold back laughter and choked as a result. "Get out of here. You and I are the last people who need it."

"You have a point..." Tsutomu regretted speaking with haste. "But there's more. I don't hate their company, for one."

Yukari pressed a clenched fist to her nose with a deep breath, then lowered her arm. "Oh, I think I get it now. It's that babe. She's got you whipped, hasn't she?"

"No! I would never-"

Her hand slapped down on his shoulder. "It's okay. I would too..."

"Huh?" he uttered, feeling most confused about what she meant. However, before he could ask her to clarify, none other than Futoshi entered to break up their conversation.

"All right, kids. Playtime's over," the old man announced in a gruff voice that Tsutomu guessed was supposed to sound imposing. "Get out, Yukari."

She shifted into a crouching position and glared back. "No way. Not until I get what I want."

Futoshi threw his head back with a groan. "Fine. You can stay here, but Ichiro is sleeping with me tonight."

Yukari let out a shriek as Tsutomu tensed in horror at the idea of sharing a room, or possibly even a bed with a wrinkly old man. He stared at Futoshi, then turned to face her while hoping for some sort of salvation.

This night was clearly going to be a long one indeed.